


Life Decisions

by orphan_account



Series: Of Roommates, Knights, Thieves, and General Awkwardness [3]
Category: The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, George has a crush, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to "They Really Were That Dense".<br/>George finds out that Alanna is a girl. At a public pool. And everything is awkward. But not in a bad way.<br/>Edited 11/9/2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> (11/9/2015) Ok so I just went through and edited this because holy shit this was more than a little embarrassing and slightly off-putting to reread.

George Cooper generally wasn't confused very often, but ever since Al-from-across-the-hall had moved in, it had been a wild ride. In his nether... area. Stuff happened and it was confusing and gay and questionable. Not that his sexuality wasn't already questionable, along with many other things in his life, but it was one of those problems that he'd mostly resolved back in his adolescence. Along with “Is it worth pissing my mother off?” and “Where am I going to sleep tonight?”

So when Georgie happened to be at the local community pool and had happened to see Al there, wearing a rather skimpy two-piece bikini, he'd felt more relieved than anything. 

_The gay scene wasn't really for me, anyways,_ he thought to himself trying really hard not to stare, _Men are nice but, God, what if he- she - wanted to go clubbing? That would have been a deal breaker. Fruity drinks and weird leather pants aren't really me._

It definitely made the Incident of Last Week (yes, the capital letters were necessary) make a lot more sense. See, George wasn't really somebody who had many visitors over at his place. He never brought home a girl, didn't let his work follow him home (even on accident, because in his profession, tHere was no such thing as an accident), and certainly didn't have enough friends to invite anybody over.

So, when Al showed up sobbing for no explainable reason and Faithful was out of town at a convention, he'd opened his door, made some tea, ordered pizza, and asked for no explanation. None was given.

Well. That was a lie. Al had said stuff, but all George had been able to catch through the general blubbering and Game of Thrones playing in the background was “men”, “idiots”, “jackass”, “blood”, “aloe”, and some other things that could not be said in polite society, or even to your mother. Especially to your mother.

He'd hugged Al, told him (Her? They? Christ, he'd never asked for her preferred pronouns.) that yes, humanity was full of jerks, asked if he/she/they needed somebody put down, received a negative answer, and then let the human being crash on his couch. Absolutely nothing had happened, but George felt like he'd seen something insanely personal, and he wasn't comfortable with it.

Because Al had been wearing women's pants, something so out of character George had almost outright stared (Ok, he had stared. He'd stared a lot. But no one could prove it). Considering what he'd seen of Al's closet in the past month, that was the biggest surprise. For someone who usually dressed so masculine (and hence, George had assumed, put a lot of stock into their masculinity), the pants were so out of character. George'd had so many questions. For one, considering the abysmal pockets, why would anyone own a pair? The was they made your ass look wasn't worth it. On second thought, maybe it was. It was a confusing situation.

And so he'd filled the Pants away in his mind as the Incident of Last Week and tried not to think about it too much.

But right now was not last week. And this wasn't just a pair of women's pants. This was a bikini. At a public pool. And he'd been staring for the past couple of minutes. Which was really not polite at all. Because Al was staring right back, looking like he/she/they (an assortment of pronouns whirled through his head) was about to get hit by a train, and rather unwillingly at that.

They locked eyes, and he felt the refreshing yet mortifying flood of mutual embarrassment, horror, and relief, which lasted for quite a while. Or at least long enough that when George finally realized what was happening, he could hear Faithful's rather unattractive snorts all the way from the other side of the pool. He looked up, expecting to see just one asshole, but was greeted by three pairs of amused eyes as opposed to the one pair that he was expecting. Al had by this point decided that the ground was going to do a back flip and was staring at it intently, with a great deal of suspicion. The two men who weren't Faithful looked just as amused, their arms filled with pool floaties. Clearly they had their priorities sorted out. One of the men looked a lot like Al, but taller, with a broader chest, and larger, darker, circles under his eyes. The other one's main defining features were piercing blue eyes, perfect hair, and a speedo. Both looked like they were torn between watching the drama unfold and using the pool floaties of a nefarious purpose.

Well, there was nothing that he could do to escape now, as the whole world was laser focused in on them, so he shuffled over to Al. By the time he got there, he'd tripped five times and started blushing like a nice, lobster red, and stammering out apologies. For someone who spent a good sixty percent of their time running around on rooftops, it was downright embarrassing.

Al, in turn, was even redder, and talking just as much.

Eventually they both shut up and didn't make eye contact in awkward silence, that was occasionally punctuated by splashes in the background and loud yells from the person drowning in the kiddie pool. 

“My full name's Alanna,” they'd eventually muttered, still not meeting his eyes.

The words “Hi, I'm George!” left his mouth before he even had time to figure out what he was saying. 

Of course, Faithful decided that this was the PERFECT time to sass, and the other two followed suit.

“Hi, I'm Faithful, and I'm an alcoholic.”

“Hi, I'm Thom, and I'm the twin brother.”

“Hi, I'm Roger and I'm the twin brother's not friend.”

They stood for a few more seconds, making eye contact that probably shouldn't have happened.

Then Thom gave the bundle of noodles in his arms a shake, “Pool floaties?”

“Fuck yes,” said George vehemently, and grabbed two.

Alanna grabbed three with equal enthusiasm.

The next hour was spent in an enthusiastic and heated pool battle.

At the end, Alanna took pity in him and finally told him which pronouns to use, but only after Faithful had completely lost his shit laughing.

They were adults, and these were their life decisions.


End file.
